


Splinters

by lionessvalenti



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-26
Updated: 2009-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has one problem with 1957 London: police boxes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Splinters

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Amand_r and Lefaym for beta reading and 51stCenturyFox for coming up with the title.

Jack avoided London as much as he could. It wasn't the pace of the city, or the time period. After years in Time Agency, you learned to acclimate to any time period. Taking the long path, adapting to the changes as the rest of the world did made adjusting even easier.

The problem was in the small things, really. In this case, walking down the pavement in 1957 London had one hardship: police boxes. A statistic somewhere in the back of Jack's mind told him there were about seven hundred of them around the city, and each time he turned a corner and came face to face with one, his heart began to race.

If he kept going like this, Jack thought he might have a heart attack. It'd be a concern, if he could manage to die.

It only took Jack a second longer to recognize that the police box in front of him was not the TARDIS. He knew his girl. If he stepped closer, pressing his face against the wood, he could smell that it wasn't her. The wood was too new. It had no experience. It didn't smell like all the wonders of the universe.

He missed the smell of the universe.

Jack didn't mind the strange looks from passersby when he was sniffing a police box. He received strange looks just walking down the street in his greatcoat, buttoned and belted, on a hot August day.

He had never been one for blending into a crowd.

That made it all the more difficult when he reached into his pocket and retrieved his key ring, selecting one of his favorite alien-influenced toys: a blank metal key. He eased it in slowly, letting it form to the lock, then turned the key and opened the door, slipping in quickly.

Inside, the police box was small and stuffy with a table and stool shoved into it.

Jack's shoulders drooped. He had known going in it wasn't going to be what he wanted it to, but the reality was still disheartening. He leaned against the wall, pressing his face against the wood, risking a splinter in the cheek. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the smooth, cool walls of the TARDIS.

He thought about the room with the double-wide bed and silk sheets. He'd only found it the one time. It might have only existed for him that night. He remembered how he couldn't quite stay in one place on the bed, sliding over the too-slick material, cool against his naked skin. Jack had been unable to keep his hands off the walls, wanting her to know how good she made him feel.

Jack removed his coat, draping it over the small table, but it was little relief in the stifling box. He could feel the sweat spreading under his collar and cuffs, dripping at his temples, and wet under his arms, soaking through his shirt.

He settled himself onto the hard, wooden stool, leaning against the back wall of the police box. He looked up at the ceiling, and the walls felt closer together than ever. He wanted the expanses and he gave himself enclosure.

Swallowing, Jack placed a hand over the bulge he had been trying to conceal with his coat. This was the fourth police box he'd come across this afternoon. There were too many of them in London, and none of them the one he wanted.

Jack unbuckled his belt slowly and easily undid the button on his trousers with one hand. He lowered the zipper and reached into his briefs, pulling out his cock, the sweaty pubic hair plastered against his skin.

He craved the hum of the engines, vibrating the console just slightly as he placed his fingers on the curved edge. He loved the way she would taunt him, shaking the console more, waiting for him to lean against it. The feel of his fingers tugging at his foreskin would have to do, though it was dull in comparison.

Jack supposed he could go out and easily find himself a lover for the afternoon, but would it be any more satisfying? At least the wooden box wouldn't be put off by him thinking of someone else.

With his left hand, Jack withdrew his balls from his pants and the not entirely unpleasant smell of body odor drifted upward. He took them in one hand and pulled on them.

A moan escaped from his throat, startling even himself. The walls of the police box were not sound proof. If he could hear the people on the streets, they could hear him. At least he would know if they were calling the police.

Jack thought about how he had screamed with pleasure, never once worrying that he woke Rose in the next room. Possibly, he had even hoped he would. The Doctor, however, heard everything, and Jack only cared if it could have turned into a three-way.

Maybe someday. There was still time.

He wrapped a firm hand around his cock, stroking slowly, moving the foreskin up over the head and back down the shaft. Sweat poured down his face, dripping into his eyes. Jack closed them and tried to imagine himself in a better place at a better time.

He remembered being splayed out on the floor in his room, legs spread, one hand around his cock, puffs air coming from the vent in the wall, teasing him. It wasn't anything serious or intense. They had only been playing, and she knew how he liked to play. Mumbling how much he loved her, he'd rubbed his face against the floor, the air blowing warm across his cheek.

Afterward, he had licked his come off the floor.

Jack replayed the memories in his mind's eye. He squeezed his balls tighter and groaned as quietly as possible through clenched teeth. His head thumped against the back of the box as he came all over his hands. Jack swore softly between breaths, letting his head loll against the scratchy wall.

He opened his eyes and looked down. His cock, diminishing slowly before his eyes, glistened in the dim light. After everything, the heat, the sneaking, and the silence, it hardly seemed worth it. Nothing had changed, and he certainly didn't feel any better. Now all he had was a soft prick and the lingering sensation of wasting his own time trying to regain something he knew he couldn't find in an ordinary police box.

Sighing, Jack wiped his hands off on his shirttails.

He tucked himself away and zipped up. He rubbed a hand over his face and reluctantly put on his coat. This morning, wearing the coat, despite the weather, had seemed fine. Now, it was heavy like everything else.


End file.
